


crazy

by versigny



Series: Annual Christmas Drabbles!!! [8]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Feels, Christmas Party, Drinking, Drunk Kissing, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versigny/pseuds/versigny
Summary: “What if,” he says, just as abruptly, his tongue passing over his pink lips, “what if we did something crazy?”





	crazy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Come To You, Step By Step](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/342276) by brokeandjetlagged. 



You didn’t want to be here.

The music was bad – seriously, who picked bagpipes for the holidays? Who did that? A quick glance of the room and another long sip of your rum and coke hinted at it probably being the really, really stereotypically good-looking fellow in a kilt and Santa hat.

Boy you didn’t want to be here.

The clock ticked and you drank more. Lightly, at least – you weren’t the kind to do a cup of vodka and a shot of orange juice. A comfortable buzz had set in by eleven, but the rest of the party was feeling  _considerably_ good in comparison, and as the saying goes, it’s no fun being the only not-drunk one.

With that cheerful thought in mind, you wandered over to an empty couch in a far corner and closed your eyes.

And then a weight tilted you.

Blinking rapidly, your head reflexively turned towards the disturbance. Of all the people in the damn world, your very own friend and Pal Program partner was sunk into the cushions, looking bored and tired and running his thumb idly over the ridges of his own red Solo cup.

“Jinyoung?” you squeaked, voice unprepared to be speaking after so long in silence. At the sound of his name, he offered a half-hearted smile.

“Hey,” he returned. “Sorry. I was just having too much fun and needed to sit down.”

The dead weight of the sarcasm was enough to rouse you into actual coherency and sentience, and you snorted at his biting statement before getting comfortable again.

“Wasn’t napping, just trying to unexist,” you replied pleasantly. “What are you doing here?”

Jinyoung got a faraway look in his eyes. Like he was thinking about something different than what you had really asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered absently.

The words lulled in the air between you strangely for a few long, stuffy moments. You gave a meek tug at a thread on your Christmas sweater covered in knit reindeer, and smiled faintly at Jinyoung’s own dark green one donned with a plush Christmas tree and little plastic presents.

“Me, too.” You were still smiling sadly when you agreed with him, not bothering to make eye contact. “But it’s alright. Wasn’t expecting anything crazy to happen tonight.”

For whatever reason, you decided to look up then. Maybe it was a mistake. Jinyoung, suddenly, for whatever reason as well, was staring at you with the full force of his eyes the colour of old ink on stark paper; deep and impenetrable simultaneously. The intensity of it was so raw your breath caught halfway and you couldn’t let it go – only gaze back, slightly slack-jawed.

“What if,” he says, just as abruptly, his tongue passing over his pink lips, “what if we did something crazy?”

Things click into place. The little smudge of green and red at the tip of your peripheral vision is mistletoe hanging above you – explains why  _this_  couch was conveniently empty. And you’re not completely sober, yeah, and of course neither is he.

“Sure,” you breathe out finally, all of the heat of the alcohol making its way to your cheeks hours late. “I could be okay with that.”

Jinyoung smiling is a rare occasion. Really, really smiling – and it’s not a big smile, but it’s a real one that makes his mouth pretty and soft and inviting and dangerous. You don’t know what prompted such a turn, but you will never complain and only savor the way it has your chest tingling and tightening with want to accept whatever he’s willing to give right now.

Jinyoung sweeps in like a ghost, and his lips capture yours poignantly. The flood of heat is instantaneous, and he wastes no time in tilting himself over you, Solo cup vanishing in a spilled mess on the carpet as he wraps his fingers into your hair. Jinyoung’s holding back, but whatever he pours into the kiss is sinful.

Your body reacts before you can even comprehend it. A strangled, trapped noise comes from your throat and you press back at him with hunger as your head spins. His lips finally, finally move, massaging against your own sweetly until they nuzzle close enough to nip at your bottom lip and tug softly.  
  
“ _Fhhckh_ ,” you moan into his kisses, and this time his grin is wicked.

“I can do better,” he whispers so very softly back, breath warm on your skin. Somehow, he does. The grip he has on your strands tighten, little prickles against your scalp coalescing with the burn in your belly. His tongue tastes like gin and tonic and peppermint as it drifts against your own, hardly demanding permission as he enters your mouth.

 _More_ , your thoughts pine.  _More, more, more_. It’s gotta be the drinks talking. Right? This is  _Jinyoung_. Fuck–

A deep, insistent buzzing startles your train of thought and you’re gasping for air, blinking at the intrusion of lights in your vision. The space in front of you is back to comfortably distant, and Jinyoung’s expression has returned to its usual vaguely-sour look, eyebrows puckered as he glares at his phone’s screen.

“I have to go,” he mumbles, and there is a note of steel in his voice. You haven’t remembered how to use yours properly yet.

“O-oh,” you stammer, voice cracking. “Oh! Yeah. O-okay.”

If you had to take a guess, you’d say Jinyoung will never speak of this and you won’t either. You’ll just lay awake at night, wondering, and never getting an answer.

The couch feels empty when he leaves.

–

Jinyoung makes it out the front door, down the stairs, to the sidewalk, and pauses. His jaw sets so hard his teeth hurt, and he clenches his fist. Punching the wall would probably be a very bad idea.

He releases the grip he has on his own heart and keeps walking.


End file.
